


Breakdown

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Integrated Worlds [13]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, but ouch for dave damn, integrated worlds, oof, well the bastard is dead now confirmed in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 22:00:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave gets some news that's kind of bad and kind of good, and loses his shit a bit as a result.





	Breakdown

The underside of the table's whorled and grainy, just as intricate as the top. Maybe more intricate. You don't know; it's not like you dare to get up and check the other side. 

No. 

You've been looking up at the underside of your kitchen table for...fuck. Time doesn't fucking exist, but you're pretty sure that you've spent a couple hours lying on the tile, staring up at the damn wood (why do you have a table this nice? why? was it D's idea? Hal's? it wasn't your choice, anyway) and tracing the intricate swirls with your eyes. 

Well, you did that for a while. 

Then it wasn't enough to keep your mind from replaying the phone call. 

_David Strider?_

_I'm calling to give you some bad news._

Your mind won't give you more than snippets, maybe because you've replayed it so many times. Like your memory's a goddamn cassette, and you've worn the tape too thin to function. 

But still. Words. Phrases.

_An altercation._

_Attempts at resuscitation._

_Self-defense. Investigation. Self-admitted history._

_Funeral arrangements._

That was when you hit the disconnect button and dropped your cell on the floor. You were already sitting on the tile at that point—when the guy said he was dead, when he said it again because you wouldn't, _couldn't_ believe that you heard right, your legs went out from under you—but after you dropped the phone you curled up into a panicked, miserable ball on the floor for...awhile. Long enough that the phone rang again, and again, and beeped to tell you you had texts, and eventually you forced yourself out of the fetal position and tried to think about getting up. 

That obviously went nowhere. 

Thinking about anything means thinking about how you basically got Bro killed. You did. You _did._ Who made damn sure he'd get convicted and shoved in jail, if not you? 

You killed him. 

Your brain wants to tell you that he deserved it, which horrifies you not because it's not true (it is true, by any fucking standards it is) but because _you're thinking that._ He's been dead less than twenty-four hours, according to the guy who called you; you've known about it for—fuck, for however long you've been lying here, and you are already trying to think that this is a good thing. That he deserved it. 

He's your goddamn _family._ Shouldn't that count for something? Shouldn't you feel something, or _not_ feel something, not feel this painful sense of relief? Even with everything he did to you, all the ways he fucked you up, you should... 

"Fuck," you whisper, trying to relax your hands enough that your nails aren't digging into your palms so deeply that you can feel warm stickiness there. " _Fuck_. You fucking bastard. You bastard. You _bastard..._ " 

Are you calling him that? Or yourself? 

Following the wood grain of the underside of the tabletop with your eyes is just barely enough to keep yourself almost calm. And here's another shitty thing: you're only really seeing the surface above you half the time, yeah, but the other half is composed of your eyes just refusing to focus, not of tears blurring your vision past sight. You haven't cried for Bro. 

Shouldn't you cry for him? 

Fuck. 

There's a weird noise. Well, a noise that's weird because it's happening at all; for the past hours the only sound in the apartment's been your sometimes-uneven breathing, and maybe ambient shit that you've tuned out almost completely. With your head as fucked up as it apparently is right now, it takes you too long to realize that the thumping noise is somebody banging on your door. 

_Fuck_! 

Before you can even remember how to move, you hear it open. Fuck. Who—no, never mind who. You can't get up and deal with them. You _can't_. 

"Dave?" 

Two sets of footsteps, and a voice you know. _Karkat. Terezi._ He was going to bring her over; he told you she had a goddamn pitch crush on you and he offered to see if you wanted to see about maybe dating like that. Fuck, you can't handle this right now. No. 

"Dave, what the fuck, did you lose your fucking phone or—" 

The door opens, and Karkat stops talking. 

You close your eyes; it _burns_ like you haven't blinked in ages and your eyeballs just got the message they should be putting you in pain. Good. That's good. You got him killed; don't you deserve this? Don't you—

" _Fucking space between the stars don't you dare be dead._ " The words come out in Alternian, like Karkat just forgot everything but the language he was born using, and there's a _thud_ almost as loud as his hammering on your door as he drops to his knees beside you. "Dave? Dave! Dave—" 

You should move. 

You can't. 

"Karkat, what's going on—" Terezi starts, and then goes abruptly silent as Karkat snarls at her. You force your eyes open again, and see that she's stopped in the doorway, blind eyes wide and nostrils flaring as she tries to get a sense of what's going on. "What do you _mean_ he's dead? I don't smell blood or bleach, so—" 

"He's not _dead,_ shut the fuck up!" Karkat leans over you, cradling your head in both hands and studying your face for a moment. Fuck, he's scared, isn't he? You know that look on his face well enough; there's been a few things that've terrified him over the two years he's been here. The fact that you can't bring yourself to move or speak spikes your paralyzing guilt up a notch. "Dave. Dave, what the fuck happened?" 

Like always, it's the gentleness that breaks you. You _finally_ move, too fast and shaky, hands scrabbling at his shoulders and tangling in the loose fabric of his sweatshirt to pull yourself up. Karkat chirps in surprise when you butt your forehead against his chest, but as soon as you stop trying to get closer to him he's got his arms around you, smoothing down your hair and rocking you like you're a little kid in his lap. 

"Talk to me," he murmurs, and even the _thought_ of doing that calls up tremors from somewhere deep inside you, makes you start shaking against him like you're freezing to death. Like you're dying. Did Bro shake like this as he bled out? 

Fuck. _Fuck._

"Fuck, Dave! It's okay, you don't have to, jesus _fuck_!" Karkat shifts a little, like he's looking up at Terezi. You can't raise your head to see. " 'Rezi, use your fucking investigative talents and tell me what happened. And how the _fuck_ to fix it." 

"That's kind of hard when the only witness is pretty darn incapacitated," she complains, but you hear the sound of her footsteps, then the rustle of cloth as she sits down on the floor next to you and Karkat. "Be my eyes for a minute, Shouty. Is he hurt?" 

Karkat tried to pull you off so he can make an examination, and huffs out a breath when you resist. Instead of forcing you, he just runs his hands down your arms and torso, shaking his head when he finds nothing to make you flinch. "No. I don't think so, no one's hurt him..." 

"Good. That means no hospital run, which is a plus, right? Especially since I'm banned from half the ERs in the city..." Terezi mumbles to herself for a moment; you can hear her claws clicking against the floor as she thinks. Fuck, if you weren't so fucked up you could just, like. Answer her goddamn questions. Explain. 

If you weren't so fucked up, Bro might not be dead. If— 

Karkat makes an unhappy noise, kind of a cross between a whimper and a croon. "Dave, I don't know what's wrong, but you need to _breathe_ ," he tells you oh-so-gently, and he's right, you're holding your breath like that'll be enough punishment for letting Bro die, and when you force yourself to let it out it sounds like a sob even though your eyes are still dry. "Here. Give me your hand." 

Yeah, no, moving isn't a thing right now. But Karkat's patient and persistent, and eventually coaxes you to let go of his sweater with one hand at least. He hisses when he gets a look at how you've torn up your palm with your nails, but doesn't actually comment on it. Just laces his fingers together with yours, squeezing carefully. 

Off to the side where Terezi is, your phone beeps, and she lets out a frustration-laced growl. "Fuck!" 

"What?" 

"I can smell the red, text notifications I think, but I can't turn the asshole voiceover on—" 

Karkat's free hand leaves your back, presumably to get the phone from Terezi. He doesn't let go of your hand, even though you know it'd be easier to check your texts with both hands. 

After a moment, he makes a noise that you haven't heard from him before. A growl, but with a note that confuses you more than the melting pot of fucked-up shit in your own head right now; like he's sorry and happy and furious all at the same time. 

He only says one word, though. "Bro?" 

You open your mouth, close it again, and squeeze his hand probably hard enough to hurt. It's meant as an answer, and he takes it as one, dropping the phone in Terezi's lap so he can wrap you up in his arms again. "Fuck, Dave. I'm sorry." 

"What's going _on_?" Terezi complains. 

"His asshole bastard lusus died." Karkat growls again, deep and displeased, and you feel the vibration in your own chest. It loosens something in there, like prying a knot half-untied. "Figure out how to use the fucking voice-command on that and tell it to call D Strider. Or my dad; I know he can call D and get him to call here...Dave?" 

That was probably in response to the choked noise you just made, the first sound you've managed since he walked in. Unfortunately, it's pretty much all you _can_ manage. 

"Dave, we're going to call D, okay? They probably told him already—fuck, it's been four hours since that text, have you been like this the whole time?" 

Still no words. But you manage to nod. 

"Jesus..." 

"Your broodmate's going to throw a sweater lecture fit if he hears you 'appropriating human religions,'" Terezi points out. You swear you can hear the air quotes in her voice. 

"Fuck Kankri. Do I look like I give a shit what he thinks?" 

Terezi just cackles like she does every time anyone uses visual figures of speech in her vicinity, and Karkat huffs again. After a second, the phone beeps and announces that D Strider's line is currently busy, and to try again later. 

"Goddamnit." Karkat sighs, one hand running through your hair absently. "I guess he probably knows, then." 

"I mean, it'd make sense for the lawyer to call him. They were broodmates, right? And Dave's not even technically an adult; I'm kind of surprised they called him at all." 

" They were _brothers,_ " Karkat corrects. "Dave's his kid, of course they're going to tell him. I wish they'd left him the _fuck_ alone..." 

"Makes two of us." The words coming out of your mouth surprise you. Fuck, you sound shaky, quiet....broken. Awful. You're awful. You're so fucking awful—

Your hands try to close into fists again, but the fact that one's full of Karkat's sweater and the other's holding onto his hand prevent that. He sighs, though, and squeezes back. 

"Terezi?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Today's plans are right the fuck out the window. New plan is that _I_ stay with Dave, and _you_ can do whatever the fuck you want." 

(The news that yes, Karkat's staying right here with you, is what starts you crying. Pure fucking relief. You're more-or-less silent about it, and if he notices that you're starting a damp spot on his sweater he has enough grace to not mention it.) 

Terezi makes a thoughtful noise; then she touches your head, resting her hand on your hair for a moment. "Hey, coolkid. Will you eat, if I find and make something edible in here for you?" (Karkatt mumbles something about her definition of edible, and Terezi swats him.) "I bet you didn't eat anything yet today, huh? Four hours ago was early as fuck, after all." 

...she's not wrong. 

You nod slightly, hoping that Karkat can translate for you. And he doesn't let you down. 

"Yeah, he should probably eat...just don't fucking poison him, okay?" 

Again, Terezi cackles, which is decidedly _less_ than reassuring.

* * *

It takes Karkat at least half an hour to get you to let him go and come up to sit at the table. Even then, you start shaking every time you think about Bro (about how _relived_ you are that he's so irrevocably gone) which means the troll's staying within arm's reach of you, watching you just in case you drop the cup of instant soup Terezi dug out of the back of the cabinet and microwaved for you. 

You haven't dropped it. Yet. 

You want to tell him that you're probably not going to do it at all, but number one you're not totally sure that's not a lie, and number _two_ , you still can't bring yourself to speak more than a couple words at a time. You don't know when the last time you went nonverbal like this was. 

Fuck. 

The phone rings while you're still staring down into your cup of soup. Terezi and Karkat both go for it, but she's the one who ends up in possession, answering it and flicking speakerphone on despite not being able to see the screen. "Hi, Dave Strider's hive but the coolkid's having issues right now. As in he's not talking and we won't make him." 

" _I really don't want you to make him talk,_ " Hal says dryly on the other end of the line. The sarcasm in his voice is gone with the next sentence, though, replaced by honest concern. " _The stupid fuckers called you, didn't they? Fuck, Dave, I should have—I don't know. Taken your name off the next of kin list._ " 

"Yes, you fucking _should_ have," Karkat growls, "but right now you need to let it go, because Dave doesn't need to hear you beat yourself up over him." 

" _Oh. Fuck. Yeah, I can see how that isn't going to help._ " Hal sighs, static over the phone line. " _I'm guessing it'd be stupid to ask if you're okay, right?_ " 

Okay, that gets a snort out of you, and an eye-roll at the phone that Terezi's holding: _gee, you fuckin' think?_

Hal must hear the snort. " _I did say I knew it was stupid. D's on his way back Earth-bound right now. You aren't going to have to handle any arrangements or legal shit, at least._ " 

Arrangements. To handle Bro's fucking body, he means. 

"Shit, Dave..." Karkat gets up, grabs the roll of paper towel off the counter, and drags his chair as close as he can possibly get it to yours before sitting down again. You flinch a bit when he goes to wipe at your face—fuck, are you crying again? 

Okay, maybe. 

" _I'll be back before D is,_ " Hal says, into the relative silence of Karkat's efforts to comfort you. " _I'm so fucking sorry I'm not there already; I'm_ this _close to hijacking a god damn plane—_ " 

"Don't." He's going to get himself arrested; the thought of that is just enough to motivate you into speech. "Dude, I'm. I'm okay." 

" _Fuck no you're not. Even if you were covering up as well as you did when he got arrested, you wouldn't be okay._ " Hal sighs, and you can just imagine the way his face goes blank, struggling to figure out what emotion to actually display. " _Fuck, I wish I was there with you._ " 

"I got. Karkat." 

" _Good. Karkat, can you stay with him until—_ " 

"Fuck 'until'; there's no fucking way I'm leaving any time soon." There's a possessive note in his growl this time, as he tightens the arm around your shoulders. "You assholes can just deal with me being here with him when you get here." 

" _Damn, you're pale for him._ " Hal sounds mildly impressed, and pretty fucking relieved. 

"Fuck right I am." Karkat chirps, looks over at your face, and adds in Alternian, " _Still red as fuck too. I promise._ " 

"I know, man." You actually never even considered the fact that he wouldn't be. "...Hal?" 

" _Yes?_ " 

"They. Didn't tell me what the fuck happened to him. Y'know...how." _How he died_ , you want to clarify, but your throat closes up around the words. 

" _Dave—_ " 

"Don't you tell me you don't know." You know Hal well enough to know that he would've been hacking into the system to get any info they refused to give him, maybe before he was done getting the official story. "Hal." 

" _It isn't going to make you feel better. Knowing isn't going to help._ " 

"Don't. Don't fuckin' give me that. _Hal._ " 

Silence, for probably close to half a minute. 

Then, " _He tried to strangle a guy. Aforementioned guy stabbed him, managed to get him in just the right spot to kill him. It's his own goddamn fault; as far as I can tell he_ knew _Noir, the guy has a reputation for defending himself with lethal force._ " 

"Noir. Wait, Jack Noir?" 

" _Yes, exactly. I didn't know you knew him._ " 

"Used to sell shit to Bro." Weapons, mostly. The most memorable thing about him was the way he looked you over, cold dark eyes scanning every inch of you before he looked over at Bro and very calmly said that the swords he'd just sold to him probably shouldn't be used on the kid, unless Bro wanted a return visit that wouldn't be as civil as this one. Oddly enough, you didn't catch hell for that later, either. "He was. Nice. To me." 

" _They're thinking he had something on Bro. No one's sure what, because he's not talking and even if he was they'd be more interested in figuring out where the hell he got the knife than exactly why Bro took one look at him and tried to kill him._ " 

"How deep shit is he in?" 

" _I mean, he's already in prison, Dave. But they're not upping his sentence, I don't think. Or at least not very much. Again, self-defense._ " 

"...good." Fuck. You can't believe you said that. 

" _Dave?_ " 

"Hal, you need to fucking stop." Karkat pulls you off your chair, into his lap. You don't have to actually look at him to know he's glaring at the phone. 

" 's not his fault." 

" _I'm capable of admitting when I fucked up, Dave. Which is now, apparently._ " Another staticky sigh. " _Look, I'm going to hang up so I can figure out what's the best use of data rearrangement to get me to Texas faster, all right?_ " 

Does he actually want an answer? Because you really don't want to give one. 

" _Love you, Dave._ " 

Okay, that you have to answer. "Love you too. See you." 

" _Mhm._ " A couple seconds later, the phone beeps to signal the disconnect, and Terezi sets it down on the counter.

Karkat tries to pull you back so he can see your face. When that fails, he huffs, kissing the top of your head instead. "That made it worse, didn't it?" he asks you softly. 

Did it? 

Well...maybe. No. No, it didn't, because at this point you don't think your mental state can actually _get_ worse. Different flavors of shitty, yeah, but not technically worse. 

"Not worse." 

"I'm pretty sure you're lying, but okay. Terezi, you can cover for me with my dad and Kankri, right?" 

"If you make me handle Mister Lecture Sweater, you're going to owe me a _minimum_ of eight favors." 

"Seven, just because you're using your fucking girlfriend's system on me." 

"Nine."

"That's not how it works! How the fuck would that be how it works?"

"Well, _I'm_ not going down!" 

This negotiation could take a while, you think. But that's okay, that's fine. Means you can just sit here with your head on Karkat's shoulder, listen to them and not think. 

Well, maybe you think a little. Mostly reminding yourself that yeah, it'll be okay. 

Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> “space between the stars don't you dare be dead”
> 
> _“Kadz jasakhame, doċlokh tena?”_
> 
> lit.: "stars and space, must you die?"
> 
> kah - dz yah - sah - khah - meh, doc - lokh teh - nah?)
> 
> the C in doc is the gutteral click
> 
> (translations by billiejoeparker)


End file.
